Saving Snape
by htdcd
Summary: In which Harry confronts Dumbledore and demands answers to what he perceives to be a serious miscarriage of justice for Professor Snape.


Standard disclaimers apply: HP et al. not mine – JKR's & WB.

Rating: Gen.

Genre: Gen.

Summary: In which Harry confronts Dumbledore and demands answers to what he perceives to be a serious miscarriage of justice for Professor Snape.

**Saving Snape**

"Let it go," Ginny sighed, not looking up from the paper she read at the kitchen table.

"But it's not fair!" Harry was adamant, running his hand through his perpetually messy hair – a sure sign of his agitation.

"And it's done. I'm not sure what you hope to accomplish," she continued, eyes glued to the Prophet.

"I just…" Harry struggled to put his discomfiture into words. "He owes me."

Ginny made a non-committal noise, well aware there wasn't anything she could do to dissuade her fiancée from his course.

"I'll be back before supper," he said, grabbing his travelling cloak from the peg on the wall.

Ginny nodded absently, sipping her tea and turning a page.

::

"I appreciate you letting me have the time before term starts to see him, Professor – erm, Headmistress," Harry said, struggling to keep up with the new Head of Hogwarts – Minerva McGonagall.

"Yes, well, I suppose if anyone deserves a cozy chat with old fool, it would be you," she replied. Harry couldn't see her face, but he sensed an eye roll directed not at himself, but at the former Professor Dumbledore. "But don't get your hopes up," she sighed as they reached the stone gargoyle that lead to the Headmistress' office. She chanted the password – something in Latin that Harry didn't quite catch, and they stepped onto the stone stairs together and ascended to the office.

McGonagall preceded Harry into the office and intimated he sit in the chair opposite the large wooden desk. She didn't sit in her own seat, but started up the stairs that led to her private quarters.

"You can let yourself out when you've finished," she said, turning over her shoulder as she climbed. "Or if you need me, just ring the bell," she nodded to her desk and Harry saw an ornate, orange-sized brass bell sitting on the edge of the desk. He gave a quick shake of his head and she disappeared from his view.

The office was silent as Harry looked up at the portraits of Headmasters and Headmistresses past. Some were sleeping, some pretended to sleep. Some frames were empty. The most recent Head of the school, Dumbledore, sat patiently waiting in his chintz armchair, eyes eagerly on Harry.

"Hullo, sir," Harry began.

"Harry," Albus broke into a wide grin. Even in the painting, his eyes seemed to twinkle with omniscience and mischief. "How are you, my boy?"

"All right, I suppose," Harry responded, feeling slightly awkward at not knowing how to begin his inquisition.

"I hear your Auror training is almost at an end," Dumbledore continued.

"Yeah," Harry began to relax a bit, able to open up about a subject with which he was comfortable. "It's been a long two years."

"Have you any clue as to your first assignment?" Dumbledore shifted in his armchair to lean forward a bit, his interest evident.

"No," Harry sighed, "I find out the end of next month."

"And, has Ms. Weasley joined the ranks with you? Or is it Mrs. Potter, now?"

"No – erm, not 'til spring. The wedding, I mean," Harry clarified. "But she isn't going into Auror training, either. She's apprenticing at the Ministry – in the Charms Reversal Department."

"Excellent," Dumbledore sat back, evidently satisfied. "But you're not here about that," he led.

"No," Harry said after a pause. "I'm not."

"Well," Dumbledore settled himself, "how can I help you?"

"I was hoping," Harry began, not wanting to sound demanding or impertinent, but trying to remain authoritative, "I have some questions for you. Things I didn't think of the…well, the last time I saw you. In King's Cross."

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "Well, yes, I daresay you were a bit overwhelmed."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"I shall do my best," Dumbledore consented.

"Well," Harry began with the most pressing issue on his mind. "You told me you intended for Snape to end up with your wand."

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "I did – intend it, I mean."

"And you knew Voldemort would go after the wand," Harry continued.

"I certainly had strong suspicions, yes," Dumbledore nodded again.

"So, you knew he'd try to kill Snape – to gain mastery of your wand." Harry stated it bluntly.

Dumbledore was silent, apparently trying to formulate his response to Harry's assumption. Finally, after what seemed like a long while, Dumbledore spoke.

"Did I know with certainty that Riddle would seek to kill Severus? I can honestly say no." Harry opened his mouth in protest, but Dumbledore held up his hand to forestall him. "However, I did know that it was a very real possibility."

"And did you tell him?" Harry demanded. "Did you tell Snape that Voldemort would probably try to kill him to get the wand? Did you warn him at all? Did you give him any chance? Or did you just want him to die?" Harry's indignation rose to the surface, the internal struggle he'd been engaging in for the past two years bubbling to the surface, insisting upon resolution.

Dumbledore looked taken aback. "I must confess myself surprised at the depth of your concern, Harry. I had no idea you felt Severus had been treated so unjustly."

"Don't you know what happened? How he passed on your message to me before he died? What I saw?" Harry's eyebrows were raised in disbelief.

"No, no," Dumbledore assented, "I do. I just had no idea it would…affect you so deeply."

"You didn't think it would affect me?" Harry was incredulous. "He shouldn't have died! I…I _had_ to die, I understand, well, not completely, but enough – I get why I had to die, why I _should_ have died. But Snape – you could have saved him. He should still be here. He didn't deserve…that…he didn't," Harry finished, shaking his head in anger.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, looking uncharacteristically lost for words. "I don't know if I can explain…"

"I believe, Headmaster," a drawling voice came from a neighboring frame. Harry's head snapped at the sound to see the portrait of Severus Snape entering the frame. A small gasp escaped from Harry. "That it may be easier for me to address Mr. Potter's…misconceptions." Snape raised his eyebrow in Harry's direction in what seemed like a gesture requesting permission to join the conversation.

Harry's eyes flitted back to Dumbledore's portrait, then back to Snape's. "All right," he said warily. He'd overseen the commission and painting of Snape's Headmaster portrait, but hadn't actually had a chance to view it upon completion. Harry, who had risen out of his chair during his tirade at Dumbledore, sat back down to hear Severus out.

"Mr. Potter, I would like to begin a series of questions," Snape sat in a black leather armchair and folded his arms across his chest as he crossed one leg over the other. Harry nodded. "After my death, you commissioned my Hogwarts portrait, did you not?" Harry nodded again. "Did you meet much resistance to this request?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, "loads. Took forever to get the Ministry to sign off on it. I had to show the memories, give testimony; it was a bit ridiculous."

"Was it?" Snape countered. "What were some of the objections you encountered?"

"Well," Harry began, "most people didn't want to believe that you really worked for Dumbledore. I still don't think people understand everything about…how he died. Parents were angry because you let the Carrows run the discipline the way you did – that you gave information to Voldemort. I'm surprised that I finally got them to sign off on it, actually. Kingsley helped quite a bit – in fact, he's really the only reason it happened."

Snape narrowed his eyes in thought before his next question. "And you say there are still people who believe my portrait should not hang?"

"Yeah, I'm sure of it," Harry nodded, rolling his eyes in disgust at those very people. "But what's that got to do with anything?"

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, had I survived, what do you think my public reception would have been?"

Harry thought for a moment, then his eyes widened as he began to imagine the press Snape would have received.

"Do you think people would have universally forgiven my actions? Do you think any of them would have believed _me_ more than they believed _you_? Do you think I would have been able to work anywhere? Even at Hogwarts? Do you think most parents would want a person such as myself, with such a dubious past, teaching their children? You struggled to convince the Wizengamot to clear my name, allow my portrait to simply be painted and hung. Do you think it would have been easy – or even possible – for me to escape the charges that would have been leveled against me? And what of the other side? Do you think I would have wanted to spend the rest of my life hiding from the retribution of the likes of Lucius Malfoy or other former Death Eaters?"

Harry was dumbfounded.

"Perhaps you did not think of these things before you so…valiantly decided I had suffered a grave injustice."

"I…" Harry tried, but Snape cut him off.

"I knew full well that the Dark Lord would seek to kill me once he discovered the power behind Albus' wand. If I had wanted to escape death at his hands, I _would_ have. Yes, I had hoped he would have been swifter. I did not foresee the use of that blasted snake. But Dumbledore is not to blame, Mr. Potter. I had quite enough time to consider the quality of life I would have led had I survived. Forgive me if I preferred the option of death to countless decades of scrutiny, mistrust, and retribution from both sides. I had no family, no close friends to speak of – my existence up until the point of my death had been nothing short of miserable torture."

Harry's mouth gaped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Dumbledore was dabbing his eye with a handkerchief.

"From the moment your mother was murdered, I wished for nothing more than my own death. If I hadn't…" Snape trailed off, his eyes becoming uncharacteristically distant. "The only thing I lived for after that night was to fulfill a debt – a destiny, if you will. Only mine was chosen, not thrust upon me like yours was. I settled that debt. I had no more reason to stay."

"But," Harry finally managed to croak out, "It's not fair."

"I fail to see how that changes anything," Snape stood from his chair. "I trust your curiosity has been satisfied?"

"But I don't…" Harry began to explain how he still didn't understand, but he realized that he did understand. He understood, but he hated it. "I'm…so sorry," he finally settled on, wishing things could have been different.

"Pity is useless, Potter. Things are what they are. We make choices. We live with the consequences. Or not." And with that, Snape swept out of his frame with his customary flourish of black robes.

Harry looked back at Dumbledore, who was still seated in the armchair. "I'm sorry, sir," he apologized. "I didn't…know…"

"Harry," Dumbledore shook his head, "The fact that you feel so deeply about the unfairness of Severus' life means more to me than you can possibly know. I realize it's difficult to accept, but I appreciate your desire for justice. It will make you a…wonderful Auror."

"Thank you, sir," Harry responded. "I should go."

"Not for too long, I hope?" Dumbledore let a smile ghost his lips.

"'Course not," Harry gave a half-smile of his own. He turned from the frames and left the office, feeling paradoxically relieved, yet woefully unsatisfied. As the door closed behind him and he started down the stone steps, he could hear Ginny's voice in his head doling out a well-deserved 'I told you so…'


End file.
